Purple Butterfly
by reminiscent-afterthought
Summary: For the OTP Boot Camp challenge. It was fluttering on a breeze, wild, gentle; fleeting...and just never meant to be. 50 drabbles on Harry's and Cho's relationship
1. Bitter Salts

**A/N: **This is for the OTP Boot Camp challenge. Each drabble on the pairing Harry/Cho…which I've never written before. Actually, I don't think I've even mentioned her name in a fic so far. *shrugs* Time to fix that.

We know the relationship never worked out, hence the colour purple instead of red or something. And butterfly comes from Cho's name origins…and the theme song of xxxHolic.

I'm trying to keep this in cannon, but there is quite a bit unexplored with this coupling, considering it doesn't work out and all.

First prompt: acrid  
Word count: 200

* * *

_**Purple Butterfly**_

_Drabble 1 – Bitter Salts_

Tears dribbled gently down pallid skin as the tight drawn face stared into the looking-glass. Her strikingly Asian features stared back at her, blurring under the scrutiny they received. Her eyes, brown, glistened in the light bouncing off the reflective surface; her thoughts remain murky and unclear underneath.

It was soon. Too soon…

The thoughts left a bitter taste in her mouth. Or perhaps it was the tears, curving down her cheeks and brushing her lips with a soft caress – no, that was salt. But when Harry had come up to her like that, and right after Cedric's funeral –

She put her face in her hands, breaking the mirror's spell. Oh why did she like him so much?

'You should hate me,' he had said. 'I-It's my fault-'

It wasn't. But that wasn't the problem either. Because…she loved _Cedric_…

_But I like Harry too_, she thought despairingly, remembering the butterflies in her stomach as he stopped her in the hallway. The thrill of cutting him off at every turn, swallowing his vision. The regret of having to reject him…

Why were matters of the heart so complicated?

Slightly angrily now, she rubbed away the tears. She _wasn't_ a lovesick, helpless girl.


	2. Snitch and Bludger

**A/N: **Fourth prompt: battered  
Word count: 200

As you can see, I'm not doing this in order. Perhaps you can't see I'm also not doing them at home or uni. Train scribbles. :)

* * *

_**Purple Butterfly**_

_Drabble 2 – Snitch and Bludger_

He was starting to wish a bludger would come whizzing out of the air and knock him off his broom – or knock him out; that worked too. After all, he'd had his fair share of both mishaps and he could, more or less, deal with both situations.

Dealing with the obstacle which was Ravenclaw's clever seeker was another matter.

Truthfully, it was not wholly unexpected; he had never played a Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. Last year's match had been cancelled on account of the Basilisk; the year before he had lain unconscious in the hospital wing after his (somewhat misguided) quest to save the Philosopher's Stone. Particularly in his case, new experiences often were accompanied with an assortment of shocks (such as their first Divination class to cite a recent example).

Somehow though, he hadn't expected Cho Chang to be such a good flyer…or strategic enough to overpower _Wood's_ drilling preparation (and that was quite an accomplishment in his book). Again, he was forced to swerve to avoid a collision; a rush of wind tackled him as he attempted to lose his tail again.

Cho appeared before him, grinning. Wood yelled something. Harry sped away – Cho's grin still battering him.


	3. A Chance to Stand

**A/N: **prompt 14: helpless  
Word count: 300

* * *

_**Purple Butterfly**_

_Drabble 3 – A Chance to Stand_

Even before she heard of the trio heading the student-based practical defense group, she found herself immediately attracted to the idea. It appealed to her non-quenched dissatisfaction with Umbridge's NEWT classes on the subject – what was the use of reading biased texts for hours on end? It wasn't going to help them in the future. It wasn't going to help _anyone_.

Oh, how she longed to march up to the toad-faced woman and give that Ministry lackey a good piece of her mind. But even before she heard the whispers of Harry, of how he'd stood up for his ideas, for Cedric's death, she would find her voice sticking to her throat. Brought up in a family of rigorous culture, such rebellious views were never to be voiced to elders, much less with that level of disrespect.

But she had also been taught to stand up for her beliefs, so when news of the group to be titled DA met her ears, she immediately attached herself to the eradication of her helplessness. She imagined herself for once being at an active role (even her job as Seeker saw her on the sidelines).

And when she heard of Harry leading, emotions involved became far more complex…and less pure. Some focus drifted towards meeting _him_, talking to him, getting to know him better and putting both their hearts at ease (because she _knew_ he was hurting, that he needed someone – and Hermione Granger was not that girl) – and then a pang of regret and pain would take her back to Cedric's gentle smile and tender hands guiding her as they danced.

The actual classes filled her with enough substance to quench the stewing cauldron. The precious seconds after were another matter.


End file.
